The Guide to the End of the Galaxy
by King Rat
Summary: The Doctor stumbles into the Guide universe, and Arthur stumbles upon the Doctor. Will the Doctor find a way back to where he belongs? After what happened in the Last Great Time War, does he even want to? Pre-'Rose' 9th Doctor, Arthur Dent.
1. Enter Mr Dent

Arthur staggered out the door of the third bar on Rigel 4 they'd hit in an hour, still enjoying the tiny conga dancers that swirled around his head to the tune of some odd pop ballad. That second Gargle Blaster didn't even seem to be that bad of an idea now.

"Bargle fargle foosh," he said.

He frowned, reaching down to get a firmer hold on his vocal chords.

"Ssooo, Ford, where to nexcht?"

He watched the traffic passing on the street for a few minutes, until he realized Ford hadn't replied. He turned to the side. "Ford, wherr-"

No Ford. In fact, as he whirled around a few times, colliding with a few other night people and a rubbish bin in his staggering, he found quite a lot of no-Ford. A total prevalence, in fact.

He sat heavily on the curb, rubbed at his face and groaned. Ditched again. Why the hell couldn't he just let him know, maybe call him a cab back to the ship? But nooo, he was probably going to use the 'forgetful' card again. Or maybe the 'utterly blitzed' card.

A blue flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head, and squinted.

A memory jumped out at him. His mother had spoken...

His mother, standing stern in the doorway of his bedroom. "Arthur Phillip Dent, if you keep doing that, you will go blind!"

Arthur winced. Definitely not that one!

He gritted his teeth. Try again...

His first trip to London. He musta' been around six...

"I know you've been into mischief, goodness knows. But if you get lost, if you need help," said his mum, pointing, "those blue boxes. Been set up so you can get help from the police. If anything goes wrong, you go to one of those." She knelt down in front of him. "They'll get us back together."

"Mummy," blubbered Arthur, pulling himself back to his feet. Blue box.

At the back of his mind, in the spare cells he'd built in drink resistance since Earth's demise, he sighed in resignation. He watched his hand grab the phone from it's cradle on the door, while his eyes scanned the glowing white letters.

POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX.

He had to admit, this matched up rather uncannily, despite being in an alley on an alien world.

"Hello? Hello?" Not even a dial tone.

Inwardly wincing, Arthur watched for what he was going to do next, and resolved to give a good verbal accounting.

He hammered at the door of the call box. "Officer, please! Let me in! Let me in!"

The door opened slightly and he fell through . "Oof!" he remarked. Floor quite hard. Marble? He looked up blearily, studying his hand. Bits of stone stuck to it. Bits of blood. He took another look across the floor. Broken tiles abou.. ab... lotsa broken tile.

Really, still bigger than it should be.

A tough-looking fellow looked around from what seemed to be the control center of the room. Really, if he was a policeman, he would have to be deep cover. Close-cropped hair, black leather, and a gaunt, dangerous look.

"What? How did you get in? What do you want?"

"I want to report a crime!" he said with great, if slurred, dignity. "My planet destroyed. Last of my race, well almost. Felony tea deprivation!" He glanced down at himself, then added, "Wardrobe destruction. Bathrobe's not great for respect, I tell you"

The fellow looked ready to take him up and eject him into deep space, then something seemed to register.

"Last of... oh, fan_tas_tic. Mixed time-lines again. Vogons?" Hard edges around eyes and mouth seemed to soften a bit.

His hand punched some controls on the central panels.

"Exactly!" Arthur sagged in relief, then grinned incredulously as something caught his eye. He pointed to a corner. "I do hope that's tea. Because, I will most definitely be drinking it."

"Yep, it's the real thing," said the jacketed fellow absently, as he pumped a handle and pushed buttons frantically. "Why don't you have a seat there and relax. I'll have you back to... somewhere presently." A howl resounded nearby, and the fellow winced. "Or maybe you should get under something."

Arthur found himself crouched behind a metal seating arrangement, klaxons going in his ears.

Oh well, he thought as he frantically tried to wedge himself against another chair, at least I have some _proper_ tea this time. He gulped down another scalding mouthful as the room lurched again.


	2. Something's amiss

Belated disclaimer: I don't own the Doctor or the Guide.

* * *

The Doctor stabbed at the controls, muttering under his breath. White, green... cython crystals... what the...

The room shuddered anew, then a third alarm began to sound.

"Just take it easy, girl... Power_ overload_?"

A plaintive voice came from the far corner. "Er, sorry, I've spilled your tea."

"Never mind that!" he called, summoning up what cheeriness he had. He gritted his teeth and tried to force a smile. "Be all right shortly, just hang on"

_Let's see... cut down emergency power._

_Cut out emergency power!_

**_Force landing!_**

"Hold on!" The Doctor dove under the console as the TARDIS dropped out of warp and came to a shuddering halt.

* * *

Arthur Dent slowly uncurled himself from the small ball he had made of himself, his bathrobe and the remains of a fine china teacup and sat up.

The room was doing an odd dance before his eyes, like someone playing with the horizontal hold on his head. Steam and sparks were shooting off everywhere.

"Uhm, hello? I'd really like to leave now. I expect my friends will be looking for me."He rubbed at his eyes, then fished about in his bag. "I do have my towel with me, see? So could I borrow a..."

The short-haired man who seemed to be in charge was standing right there in front of him, fists clenched. The hard look was back.

"Right. You have five seconds to explain what you've done to my TARDIS, and less time to put it right!"

Arthur gawped. "Er, sorry? I don't underst-" His sentence was cut short as he was hauled to his feet by the lapels of his dressing-gown, spun, and propelled toward the console in the middle of the room.

"Talk!" shouted the man. "What have you done?"

"I don't-"

"I cut off all emergency power, all of it! Yet the power is back on!"

The man paused, took a deep breath. Rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

When he looked up into Arthur's eyes...

The wave of loss and longing made him stagger. This was way worse than what he'd dealt with in talking with Ford back on Earth. Much worse.

"Long way from home, are you?" he managed, weakly.

"Just tell me," the man said quietly, "why the Eye is functional again."

* * *

"Just tell me why the Eye is functional again."

The man before him looked ready to cry. "Look, really, I have no idea, I just got drunk and thought this was a police box." He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, I just wanted to go home!"

The oddity of this helped him get back under control.

"Look," he said, "just get a grip on yourself. Fine, I get it, you've no idea what's happened here. But why are you talking like you'll never get home? Come to think of it, what's a human doing on Rigel Four of all places?"

The man looked up, tears in his eyes. "You said you knew! You even knew it was the Vogons!"

What? "I didn't say Vogons, I said Daleks!" He then spotted the tail of a fish protruding from the Earthman's ear. "Oh. I see. Babel fish, is it? Must be jamming the TARDIS translation, making you hear what you most want to hear."

"I..."

"Never mind that. We've got to get you back to your own ship. Perhaps your friends could answer some questions for me as well!"

He started back toward the console.

_Voices._

_Presence._

"No, no, not possible..."

Tears came to his eyes. The Earthman seemed to be saying something, but all he could hear were the voices.

"I saw you die, felt you all die... How..?"

He fell to the deck, sight dimming now,

fading to black.


	3. The Doctor finds the Guide

Doctor Who is owned by the BBC, and the Hitchhiker's Guide by, I suppose, the Adams estate. So long, and thanks.

* * *

Arthur watched with growing alarm as the man froze in the middle of the room and start whispering in shocked tones about dead people.

"Are you all ri-" was all he was able to get out before the fellow proceeded to collapse.

_Right, now the first thing is _**Don't Panic**_. Remain calm._

"Oh hell!" was what he found himself shouting instead. "What do I do now?" He looked about, hoping for a bucket of water, strong drink, anything.

He was starting back over to the wreckage of the tea service, when there was a groan behind him.

He turned to find the other rising to his feet, rubbing his head and wearing a slightly sheepish grin.

"Not to worry, it happens," he said. "Now then, we're going to have to get this sorted out. First off, what's your name?"

"Er, Dent. Arthur Dent." He winced. Hope this chap didn't make a crack like Slarty(1) did so long ago...

"Nice to meet you, Arthur. I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor-"

"Just the Doctor, thank you." He took a look at a large monitor set into one of the walls. "Hm. According to this, we're in the middle of the Seventh Galactic Republic. On Haltos. Nerglia, the capitol." He frowned. "Since when was there an interstellar market in this sector of the city?" He started toward the door.

"Er, where are you going?"

The Doctor turned around with a glare. "Look, things are not as they're supposed to be. Badly so. And it isn't going to get any better if you just stand there asking me stupid questions! Now come on!" He turned back, opened the door, and stepped out into daylight.

Arthur groaned. "Not another one of those bloody adventures," he muttered as he hurried to catch up. "At least I don't have to deal with Zaphod or those damn mice."

His hand drifted into his bag, onto the comforting solidity of the Guide. His fingers traced the large, raised words on the cover.

He stepped out of the door, and into an alley. Brightly-lit with the midday sun, quite green and neon and metally. Still, it looked like pretty much any alley. The Doctor was standing there, hands on hips.

"Well, Arthur, what do you know about this place?" said the Doctor with a grin. Arthur had the distinct feeling he was being wound up. _Two can play that game_, he thought.

"Let me check." He pulled out the Guide, and keyed in "Haltos". When the display came up, the Doctor's eyes widened.

"What is that?"

"Er, the Guide. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." He pressed a few more keys and tried not to look smug. This was a bit tricky, since he had so few opportunities to do so in the first place. "Got it off of one of their field researchers. Old friend of mine."

His eyes nearly popped out when, with astonishing speed, the Doctor had whipped the Guide from his hands! He suddenly had a small cylindrical, blue tipped device in his other hand, which he was playing over the keyboard and screen.

"What in blazes are you doing?!" sputtered Arthur, ineffectually grabbing at the Guide. "It's mine!"

"Calm down," said the Doctor with a look of concentration. "Just increasing data retrieval speed and device volume. It should-"

"WARNING WARNING WARNING! COPYRIGHT VIOLATION! CONTINUED ATTEMPT WILL RESULT IN WITHDRAWAL OF VIEWING PRIVILEGES AND ATTENDANT APPENDAGES!"

"Yeow!" The Doctor reflexively yanked his hand back, sending the black rectangle spinning away from suddenly glowing Guide hit the ground at an angle, skittered a bit, then landed, face up. The ever present DON'T PANIC was just cooling down from a white heat to its familiar, comforting yellow.

Arthur darted forward, snatching his towel from his bag as he did so. He gingerly picked up the Guide by the edge so protected, and flipped it back into his bag.

He stood back up to find the Doctor regarding him and his bag with a look of deep suspicion.

"It's never done that before, honest! I don't know what you did, but nothing's ever made it act that way!"

The Doctor shook his head. "I guess I wasn't expecting a human to be carrying that kind of tech. Well, that doesn't matter." He gestured toward the teeming collection of stalls, stores and alien beings just outside the alley. "Now, what we need to find are news feeds, papers, whatever is here so I can see exactly what's been shifted out of the ordinary; for some reason my TARDIS's scanners are on the blink. Come on!" He started off at a trot into the teeming market.

Arthur shook his head. "Earth gone three years, and I haven't found anything ordinary yet." He broke into a run to catch up with the rapidly disappearing Doctor.

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(1) Slartibartfast, from the first Hitchhiker's book. Shame on you for having to check this footnote! Go back and re-read the book at once!

)


	4. Return to Gallifrey

Arthur finally caught up to him in front of a newspaper kiosk. The array of languages, not one of which was familiar to him, seemed to be no problem for the Doctor, who was scanning each paper intently.

For a fellow who was trying to fix something 'badly wrong', though, he just seemed too... cheerful?

He finally caught his breath. "So, did you find that... catastrophic-change-thing you were looking for?"

"Well, not really, said the Doctor. He pulled a paper down and pointed at a picture on the front page. The picture was moving, showing a sporting event from different angles. "This one looks interesting, though. Brockian Ultra-Cricket." He grinned at the page. "Some civilization in sports here. Fantastic!"

"Civilized how?" said Arthur. "Are we even thinking of the same game here? The one where the whole point is to hit someone and then run away?"

"Ah, but they apologize afterward. It's a huge step forward." He went back to reading the article.

Arthur sighed. "I'll see what I can pull up from the Guide. To be honest, I don't think I know what you're looking for, though. Sorry." He pulled the Guide out of his bag and opened it. He thought for a second, then punched in 'tardis'. There was a series of bleeps, and an article popped up.

"_**TARDIS -**_

_"According to the Encyclopedia Galactica, this word is an acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It also adds that it is the name of a type of ship reportedly used by a race who refer to themselves as Time Lords._

"The Guide's well-known position is that the Encyclopedia Galactica is full of Grade-A Slarg pucky.

What a TARDIS is, is either a Godsend for crashing the best party spots in time and space, or a damned nuisance. These small ships can appear to be almost anything, which can be partially dealt with if you have a good Somebody Else's Problem field neutralizer, or are just especially can also be spotted if the occupants pop out at you. This can be a good thing or a bad thing; they can either ignore you entirely (snobby in the extreme), try to incorporate you into their mad schemes for ruling the universe, or worst of all, try to involve you in heroics. If this happens, run like hell before they finish talking, and hitch a ride off of that planet. Or, to be safer, out of that star system or cluster. See TIME LORD, GALLIFREY, or your local children's book of myths and legends."

"Hm." Arthur turned around quickly. The Doctor grinned at him. "I suppose that would be a hitch hiker's view of my people, then. What does it say about Earth? I haven't been able to find anything on the news sheets."

Arthur looked him in the eye. "It's a bad article. I say that for a fact."

"Let's see it."

Arthur showed him.

"That's it? 'Mostly harmless?' What kind of lousy research was done there?"

"It took my mate Ford thirteen years of living on Earth to write even that much, apparently," sighed Arthur. "Though come to think of it, he did tell me last year something about 'huge multimedia articles' and 'in-depth studies' and a few minutes later, 'editors should all be ground up and made into sausages, then thrown into a black hole.' That was right about the end of an epic bender, though." He frowned. "Claimed not to remember any of it the next week, when he woke up."

"So what are you saying happened to the planet?" said the Doctor, looking impatient.

"Hey, I was there! Ford, the guy I was talking about, shows up, tells me where he's really from and hitches us a lift onto a Vogon Constructor ship just as the Earth was demolished!"

"What? What were they constructing?"

"A hyperspace bypass." He narrowed his eyes. "And now I hear they're planning to demolish THAT, too."

When he didn't get a comment on that, he glanced over.

The Doctor was staring off into space... he whispered a few names, then closed his eyes. "That's a shame. Really. All the possiblities, what they could have given the universe..." he trailed off, then turned back to Arthur. "I-" He winced, then looked back over toward the way they had come. "We need to go. Now. I just realized, we're looking in exactly the wrong place!"

"Er, how about I just wait here, catch the next ship back to Rigel Four?"

"Not a chance," the Doctor shot back. "This mess started arrived with you on my ship, and you're going to stay until it's fixed!"

With that, he grabbed Arthur's arm and half-dragged his protesting form back toward the TARDIS.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Fine, fine!" said Arthur. The Doctor seemed to be doing a good job of racing about the console punching in various things while giving him the hairy eyeball at the same time. "I get it! We need to go fix things, it's my fault, and I've got to set it right."

"What else?"

"Oh, all right. Yes, I promise to mind my manners and stay where I'm told to stay while on your planet." He went over and sat in one of the few remaining chairs near the wall. "It's not like I'm prone to wandering off, you know."

The Doctor snorted. "Seems that's all your race Is good at, for the most part. Ah, nearly there..." He was suddenly sent staggering against the console as the room bucked. Arthur was thrown from the chair toward the center of the room.

Several new alarms were going, and from his upside-down, rocking perspective, he could see the Doctor frantically turning wheels and twisting dials.

"Blast it!" shouted the Doctor. "What's wrong with you! It's home, girl! It's what you... What do you mean, strangers? That's it!" His hands came down on a large blue button and a big switch at the same time. "We'll clear this up later. Now..."

There was a WHUMP as the room stabilized, but the alarms were still going off. The Doctor ran over, grabbed Arthur by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on!"

Arthur snatched up his bag and stumbled after the Doctor. He exited the TARDIS...

To find the both of them surrounded by armed guards. Strangely, they looked more curious than angry or scared.

"What's going on here?" said the one in front. "Who are you?"

"The Doctor." He seemed surprised when that provoked no reaction from the guards at all. "Look, I know I've regenerated, but at least my name should mean something to you fellows!"

The leader thought for a moment, then understanding dawned. "Ah. I believe there's someone wanting to see you." He turned and motioned to two younger-looking guards. "Another Quad-Gamma. You know where he needs to go."

"Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, but what's going on?" said Arthur. He was staring with some alarm at all the guns being pointed his way.

"He's with me. Claims to have been one of the only surviving humans left after Earth was destroyed."

The head guard looked at Arthur with renewed interest. "Really? We had to deal with some extradimensional creatures looking for this one a while ago." He turned back to the Doctor. "Don't worry. We'll put him in the Preserve. He should keep fine there."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Well, Arthur, I guess you weren't just suffering from a knock to the head." He grinned. "Go on, then. It's a great place!"

The guards walked them both down one ornate corridor after another, up a lift, then came to a stop before a large white door. "Here you are," said the head guard. He nodded to the two he had originally assigned. "You keep an eye on him in there."

The Doctor waved. "Have fun!" He then turned, opened the door, and stepped into the room.

"So, this is a nice place I'm going to, then?" said Arthur hopefully, as he was hustled toward yet another lift. The guard he had spoken to completely ignored him.

"Oh, this is just **fantastic**," he muttered.


	5. Professor?

Still don't own the rights to the Doctor or the Guide; still poor and submitting stories here. Somebody call my agent!

* * *

The door swung open onto what looked to be a standard Council office, with a few souvenir knick-knacks from various planets. 

"Go on."

The Doctor stepped cautiously into the room, his 'escort' following close behind.

"We seem to have come across another one," said the first guard, gesturing toward him with his pistol.

"Here, what are you, just fresh out of the Academy or something?" snapped the Doctor. "Be careful with that!" The guard stepped back, flicking his eyes to the other, then at the figure hunched over a monitor at the other end of the room.

"Just leave him there, I'll be with you in a moment," she said. When the guards didn't move, she looked up. "I said it was fine! You may go!"

"If you say so, madam," said the second guard doubtfully. He was hurriedly dragged along out of the room by the first, and the door closed.

"Well," said the woman as she rose from her seat,"let's have a look at you."

As she walked toward him, he took his own stock of her. Only slightly shorter than him, straight black hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Icy blue eyes, surrounded by rather narrow, striking features. Tan leather trenchcoat over a plain, bone-coloured blouse and medium-length black woolen skirt. Sensible brown hiking shoes.

She flashed him a sparkling grin, both infectious and yet... somehow unsettling."Got an eyeful, then?"

The Doctor smiled back, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, do I know you? It's just, you seem rather familiar."

The woman shook her head. "I suppose I really can't make anything easier for either of us, so let's just start with introductions."

She extended her hand. "I'm the Professor. Pleased to meet me."

"Meet... you? That can't be right."

"I'll explain in a bit. But first, it's really not polite to leave a lady hanging..."

"Ha! All right." He took her hand and gave his most winning smile. "The Doctor."

She smiled,withdrew her hand, then said, "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Now what you said, being me, what's that about?"

The Professor sighed. "That will take some explaining, it will. It would be best if you had a seat." She gestured toward one of the chairs before the cold grey desk as she walked to the other side.

Both seated, she began to speak.

"To start off with, you are not where your TARDIS thought you were. That's why she's having a fit down in the repair docks, poor thing.The techs are having a dreadful time getting close enough to do any repairs at all."

"I figured that out a while ago," he replied. The voices just beneath his conscious thoughts... so _alive_, so comforting. "So where am I?"

"Oh, you're on Gallifrey, right enough," said the Professor with a sigh. "You've crossed over a dimensional fracture, one of many we've been trying to patch up for quite a while. The meddling scientists of the rest of the galaxy have been causing us more trouble on that front; we've really had our hands full." She chuckled. "Why, it's been enough to have them call me back as a troubleshooter! Me!"

"I..." The Doctor shook his head. "What could have caused all this? The Daleks, did they get their hands on this technology?"

"The Daleks?" The Professor frowned. "No, the Daleks had nothing to do with it, this time. Irony of ironies, I actually had enlisted their aid to try to thwart the one responsible."

She suddenly looked very tired, sagged back in her chair. "Alas, too little, far too late."

The Doctor leaned forward, alarmed. What he had caught off her mentally in the last few seconds... his mouth narrowed to a thin line. "How many gone?"

"Too many." She looked him in the eyes. "I could show you what happened, the one responsible. Judging by the few other alternates of mine I've had chance to encounter,though, you may not like it."

"I doubt I will," said the Doctor grimly. "Be careful, I have some unpleasant things to show of my own." He leaned further forward.

"No doubt we both have collected our own share, over the centuries."

Contact.

------------------------------------

The Doctor found himself as the Professor, racing down a redly lit corridor, klaxons going in her ears. There were running footsteps close behind.

A youthful male voice called, "Doctor, I don't know how long that will hold them."

_Ace, my Ace, anyway. A bit rough around the edges, very fond of his knives, but a good lad. Always insisted on calling me 'Doctor' for some reason. Actually, he started out calling me 'Fixer', but I convinced him that was not an appropriate address._

The Doctor felt a touch of wistfulness around the revelation. He could sympathise.

"We're almost there," she called. She drew up short at another security door, whipped out her sonic screwdriver, tried to get through the security subroutines. No good. **_Damn, _**_he_ _was clever_. She shorted the emergency opening charges, sending the door rocketing out of its mooring.

"Our reinforcements should be arriving any second." She ducked through the smoking doorway.

The 'lad' ran past, and the Doctor could see him now. _Dressed similar to my Ace, the Doctor mused. Hardly a _small_ lad, though._

A big blond fellow in a patched leather jacket and jeans charged past her into the next room, scanning it expertly. He was holding a large Tholaeian mono-knife in each hand, and it looked like he'd not gone easy on the sparking power units in the pommels.(1)

"Room's clear. Doctor, c'mon!"

"Just a moment, just a moment," said the Professor, working over a viewscreen with her screwdriver. "Ah, there we are." She straightened up... the scene froze. The perspective changed, and she was looking straight at the Doctor.

"This will be difficult. Just remember, this is how it happened in my time lines. It is no reflection on you or yours." She then turned back toward the screen, and the Doctor's perspective snapped back to hers.

The screen came on, haze playing across, then cleared. "Here they come," she muttered. Ace stood beside her, staring at the screen in shock.

On the screen, the enemy troops were suddenly confronted with a transmat shimmer across a huge area of space. As they fell back to regroup, the shimmer coalesed... into a vast armada of Dalek ships.

Their transmission came over the speakers loud and clear. "YOU THREATEN THE DALEK DOMINION. YOU THREATEN OUR EXISTENCE. YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!"

"Cor..." breathed Ace. "You did it. I really hope you know what you're doing, Doctor."

"So do I, Ace. So do I."

The initial assault began. Blasters flashed, missiles flew, and fire began to bloom on both sides.

Suddenly, the screen went blank. "What?" snapped the Professor. She brought up the screwdriver...

Recorder music, with a very distinctive melody, issued from the speaker.

The Professor's eyes narrowed. "So, you've finally decided to show yourself. Will you surrender the Hand now?"

_No, it can't be, _thought the Doctor_. Just a coincidence..._

The screen flickered to life. On it, a small man in a black coat was just removing a recorder from his lips. He turned to face the screen. "Ah, Professor! Lovely as ever I see"

_The recorder, the same... the face, the clothes, the music... but it's not, can't be, I would never have... !_

The figure tucked his chin to his chest and gave a wry, friendly-sounding laugh. "Oh, my dear Professor," he said, "such a game we've had, over the centuries. But I fear I've bested you already." He raised his eyebrows in a knowing gesture, then gave a small salute with the recorder. "Old foes must fall by the wayside, and the Master reign supreme!"

"Not by a long shot, you bleedin' nutter!" bellowed Ace beside her. "Your army's bein' taken apart right now!"

The Master frowned at Ace. "Really, Professor, you should teach your pets to mind." He drew a deep breath, then turned to address the Professor. "I suppose that it's a bit too late to tell you I had full Council approval for this little project?" He flashed a signed paper on screen. "Oh, and you're more than slightly off on your timing."

The scene on the screen shifted again. On it, the Hand of Omega streaked toward... "Jugelis Prime? What have you done!"

"What's wrong,Professor?" Mock concern etched his face. "That system contains no habitable planets.By my calculations, no nearby systems will come to harm, either."

"A **_trinary_** star system?! You'll blow out the Eye of Harmony! Rip a hole in the space/time continuum! Who knows what else could happen to the fabric of reality!" She pounded on the wall beside the screen. "Recall it, damn you!"

"It's far too late for that. You might want to get back to your own TARDIS, my dear Professor," said the Master. He gave her a wink."I suspect you'll be in for a wild ride." With that, the screen went blank.

Ace broke the silence."What're we gonna do now, Doctor?"

The Professor shook herself. "Back to the TARDIS!" she snapped. "We've got to brace her up, and try to warn Gallifrey before that thing goes on-line!"

She turned and ran back out the door, Ace following close behind.

* * *

(1) The power cells on Tholaeian mono-knives are there to power the containment fields. The containment fields keep the monomolecular edge of the blades from doing inconvenient things to the knife, the user's hands, the floor... the core of the planet they're standing on... 

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An alternate Gallifrey! An alternate Doctor! Patrick Troughton as the Master! DIVERS ALARUMS!

I promise to do the best I can on updating... please review!


	6. Lord President

* * *

_The Professor and Ace ran into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut. The Professor ran over to the console, pulling up a keyboard and frantically typing while pulling several knobs in sequence-_

**KA-BLAM!**

**

* * *

  
**

There was a twisting wrench as the psychic link was severed, and the Doctor's eyes snapped open. He found himself on his knees, with the muzzle of some kind of gun pressed to the back of his head. The room swam before his startled gaze.

Three of the Lord Presidents personal guard were standing there, guns drawn. The door had been blown off of its hinges, the haze of smoke still hanging in the air. The Doctor could see the prone forms of the guards who had been at the door. Another form stepped through the smoke, wearing the robes of the Lord President. It was...

_Ace? _No, that couldn't be him. Looked awfully similar, though.

"Mmuph," said the Doctor, and frowned. His mouth didn't seem to be responding well, either. Come to think of it, a simple psychic 'contact' shouldn't...

"Back off," said the Professor, from behind him.

"Or what?" said the President. "You'll kill this Doctor as well?"

**_This_** Doctor?!

"It was only through sheer luck I managed to find out what you were really up to, Professor," said the President. His voice held a note of bitter disgust. "Experimentation on Gallifreyans? On Time Lords?! I will see to it that-"

"You will 'see to' **NOTHING**!" The Professor's last word rang right through the Doctor's head, and he sagged, grinding his teeth in pain. Psychic... assault!

The President and his guards, however, didn't budge.

"Do you really think I'd come here unprepared?" He pointed to a small device on his belt; his guards, the Doctor noticed, wore identical ones on theirs.

"Now to end this." He pressed a button on the device, and the Doctor heard an electric_ fz-zap_ and a gasp from behind him, followed by the clink of metal hitting the floor . At the same time, his head completely cleared! He fell forward onto his hands, shooting his legs back and under the Professor, then with a twist, sent her crashing to the floor. The gun flew out of her hand, ricocheted against her desk, and fetched up against the far wall.

"You...!" Both the Doctor and the Professor looked up into the muzzles of the guard's guns. The President stepped forward.

"I will see to it you get the maximum penalty."

The Professor spat at him. "You don't dare do that! You need me! I-"

**KRAK!**

The President backhanded her, sending her back to the ground. The Doctor stared at him in shock.

"I did not give you leave to speak," he said. He turned his focus to the Doctor. "Where is your companion? They are in grave danger."

"Companion?"

"You usually travel with one, correct? Quickly!"

The Doctor sat up straighter. "The guards said they were taking him to the Preserve," he said. He turned his head toward the Professor, a furious expression on his face. "Where are they really taking him?" He regained his feet and took a step toward her.

"Disposed of," she said with a sneer. "I left it to them to decide how."

The Doctor glowered at her.

Several more guards had arrived in the meantime. "Take her to Coventry," said the President. He turned to the original ones who had arrived with him. "Maxil, where do you think they may have taken the human?"

Maxil glanced over at the fallen bodies. "It appears Trask was in charge, Lord President. He would probably have just ordered them to take him outside the dome and throw him off."

The President nodded. "Take two men, and see if you can head them off."

"Yes, Lord President." He signaled the men, and they dashed out the door.

"What about me?" said the Doctor.

The President turned toward him, an eyebrow raised. "Why are you still here? Go with Maxil; I will speak to you-."

He hadn't even finished his sentence before the Doctor had raced out himself to catch up with the guards.

-------------------------------------------------

"Hey," said Arthur, panting, "can you slow down? I'm only just getting over a hangover, I don't- _gasp_ - need to keel over - _pant_ - exhausted as well!"

One of the guards near him smirked. "In a hurry, is he?" He reached over and grabbed Arthur by one side of the neck of his robe. Another grabbed the other side, and he was lifted into the air, still moving along.

"Um, thank you," said Arthur, still panting.

"Shut up," said the guard in front. Arthur blinked the sweat out of his eyes. He was sweaty, hungover and smelled like twelve pubs had had their way with him the night before.

He was also beginning to get that nagging leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that said that _These Armed Men Are Not Your Friends_.

The group stopped at a door, and he took this opportunity to muster his flagging nerve and strike up a conversation. "So, when do we get to this Preserve place? Will there be breakfast? I- urk."

He had said this last as a gloved hand closed on his throat. "I said shut up, you disgusting animal!" The guard shook him. "For pity's sake, how could one planet-bound race cause so much trouble?" He turned and slid a key through a console, then punched in a code. A section of wall slid aside, revealing....

Rocks. An orange-brown sky. A blast of cold wind that hit all of them, reviving Arthur a bit. The group marched forward.

Arthur took a look at where they were going, and gawped.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude," he said, "but there appears to be a lack of ground in that direction. Quite a bit of thin air, but a distinct lack of solid-" The guards holding him shook him a few times. He shut up.

"Quite," said the lead guard as they reached the edge of the cliff.

"You can't do this!" squeaked Arthur. "I'm one of the last humans! We're an endangered species!"

"And now, you'll be extinct," said the guard.

He suddenly looked back over at the doorway; Arthur's eyes followed his.

One of the others had crumpled to the ground; the other, as they watched, dove away from the doorway as blaster bolts streaked past.

"Damn!" said the guard. He reached for his pistol with one hand. With the other, he threw Arthur over the edge.

_Right,_ thought Arthur, as he fell screaming toward the rocks at the base of the mountain far below. _Alien planet, imminent death. Could do with a packet of corn flakes, but I suppose one shouldn't be greedy._

He got back to his screaming. Busy schedule, and all that.


	7. Unexpected Redundancies

The Doctor charged out toward the cliff edge, flanked by the Guard's cover fire.

"Stop right-"

He was scant seconds too late! A bolt dropped the renegade guard next to him, but only after the other had hefted Arthur by his robe and dropped him over the cliff. He looked over the edge to see Arthur's screaming form getting smaller and quieter.

"Doctor!" shouted Maxil. "We may still have a chance to save him!" He ran back into the corridor, the Doctor hot on his heels.

He ran back inside the dome and slid to a stop before a computer monitor and keyboard. He began typing, moving a dial at the same time. "If we can just get the planetary transmat tracking to lock on - WHAT are you doing?!"

The Doctor, who had pulled out his sonic screwdriver and was about to use it on the computer, glared back. "I was just going to increase- oh." He looked sheepish.

"Top-of-the-line enhanced Gallifreyan tech, and he pulls a bloody screwdriver," muttered Maxil, hammering away at the console. He blinked. "Where's he gone now?"

"What do you mean, where's he gone?" snapped the Doctor. He pushed Maxil aside and glared at the monitor, then blinked himself. "Where's he gone?"

"Where's who gone?" said Arthur, craning his head to see the screen from behind him.

"Arthur! How the hell..." He stopped, and gave him an annoyed scowl.

The Earthman was wearing a very smug expression.

He was also floating two feet above the floor.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you could fly? And how?" The Doctor had his screwdriver back in hand and was scanning it over him, studying it intently.

"I don't know why you're bothering with that, Doctor," said Maxil. "He's definitely human."

"Fine," said the Doctor. "Never mind." He stowed his screwdriver back in his jacket, still frowning.

"The Lord President is waiting in his offices to speak with you, now that this business is done," said Maxil. He turned and began walking back down the corridor. The Doctor began to follow, then turned and grabbed Arthur by his shirt collar. "Come on," he said, pulling him along. "And get your feet on the ground!"

He yanked, and Arthur hit the ground with a whump.

"That was rude," said Arthur, who then picked himself up. Gathering his bag, he took off at a trot after them.


End file.
